Rain! whose soft architectural hands have power to cut stones, and chisel to shapes of grandeur the very mountains.
Henry Ward Beecher
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.
 This rainy evening the wind is restless.
I look at the swaying branches and ponder over the greatness of all things.
 Thou raisest thy waves vainly to follow thy lover. O sea, thou lonely bride of the storm.
 God’s great power is in the gentle breeze, not in the storm.
 This world is the world of wild storms kept tame with the music of beauty.
 The storm is like the cry of some god in pain whose love the earth refuses.
 Clouds come floating into my life from other days no longer to shed rain or usher storm but to give colour to my sunset sky.
The storm of the last night has crowned this morning with golden peace.
The raindrops kissed the earth and whispered,–“We are thy homesick children, mother, come back to thee from the heaven.”
Find your beauty, my heart, from the world’s movement, like the boat that has the grace of the wind and the water.
Stray birds of summer come to my window to sing and fly away. And yellow leaves of autumn, which have no songs, flutter and fall there with a sigh.
 The poet wind is out over the sea and the forest to seek his own voice.
~Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds